Eagle Day - Robert Muchamore Page 0,24

was pleased to discover a large workshop and storage shed.

‘Should stock plenty of spares in a joint like this,’ he noted.

Henderson knocked on the steel door, but had already begun sizing it up for a break-in when a bolt finally thunked across the inside. A young man opened it and as he let Henderson and Marc inside it became clear that a club foot had kept him out of the army.

‘I was down in the basement,’ the young assistant said apologetically. ‘I keep the door locked because you get people wandering in, wanting food or begging to use the toilet. Not that the toilet even works now. There’s so many refugees out there that all the sewers are backed up.’

Henderson pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his jacket. ‘I need to replace a couple of valves. Got the part numbers written down here.’

The assistant sucked air between his teeth. ‘Not a valve on the shelf, I’m afraid. Valves are fragile beasts and when the bombing started we had more repair work than we could handle. Once the Boche

4 arrived they came and took what little stock we had left to repair military equipment.’

‘Figures,’ Henderson said sourly. ‘I suppose that means nobody else in town will have any either?’

‘You suppose right, sir. I can’t even sell you one of the new sets in the window because they’ve all been stripped out. With no parts, the only work I can do right now is cannibalising: making one good set if you bring in a pair of damaged ones.’

‘And I don’t suppose you’ve kept any stock back for a customer who can pay a good price?’ Henderson asked.

The assistant shrugged. ‘You know, my father owns this shop. He said I should have tried to keep a couple back from the Boche. But when two big uniforms with guns came through the door and started ripping stuff off the shelves I didn’t fancy playing the hero for the sake of a few glass tubes.’

Henderson looked deeply disappointed. ‘Supposing a man to have a valve, is there anywhere he might get one?’had

The assistant laughed. ‘Short of robbing the Germans in their barracks, I doubt it.’

Henderson’s eyes lit up. ‘Would you know where that is?’

‘Sure, my dad and my sister are helping them repair equipment up there now. They took over the university building across the river, but you’re wasting your time. They won’t give you anything.’

‘Guess you’re right,’ Henderson said sadly. ‘I’ll let you get back to your cannibalisation.’

The smell of the street hit Marc again as they went out into the alleyway.

‘Looks like we’re buggered on the radio front, boss,’ Marc said sadly.

Henderson smiled determinedly. ‘Marc, if there were no valves in Bordeaux we’d be buggered. All we’re facing is a minor difficulty.’

Marc laughed as they turned back on to the street and approached the truck. ‘You’re probably the most wanted man in France. You’re not seriously gonna try robbing a German barracks are you?’

Marc stopped by the truck, thinking they’d be climbing back inside, but Henderson kept going towards the docks.

‘Come on,’ Henderson said. ‘I’ll bet you ten francs that we don’t head home empty-handed. All we need do is find a boat with a German name written on the bow.’

*

While Maxine, Rosie, Henderson and Marc travelled into Bordeaux in the truck, PT and Paul stayed back at the pink house.

Paul hated the noise and chaos of the toddler-packed consulate and Henderson had made it clear that he only wanted Marc for company during his quest for radio spares. The pair had formed a strong bond travelling south from Paris together and Henderson made no effort to hide the fact that Marc was his favourite.

Maxine had put bread and jam out in the kitchen before she left and Paul scoffed three thickly buttered slices. Bread and jam was his favourite breakfast and he planned on having the same for lunch if Henderson wasn’t back by then.

After eating he headed upstairs to get an artist’s pad and a small pack of coloured pencils Maxine had found for him. He’d owned a more elaborate selection of inks and pastels, but they’d gone down along with all his other possessions on the Cardiff Bay.

The three boys shared the second largest bedroom in the house, and PT had taken advantage of Marc’s early departure to spread himself over the double bed. PT was usually moody until lunchtime, so Paul crept around making sure he didn’t wake up.

When Paul and Rosie’s parents were alive they’d worried